


good enough

by ossin



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: College, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Sex, nonAU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ossin/pseuds/ossin
Summary: Tobin can't stop shaking. She's exhausted from the game and cold and drunk and she knows this is wrong because Christen is crying. Because Christen hates herself. Christen might even hate Tobin. But Christen feels like everything Tobin has been waiting for.





	

The first time Tobin can remember really seeing her happens like this:

It's the night of the NCAA finals in College Station, Texas, and UNC beats Stanford 1-0 and Tobin is screaming and celebrating and going crazy and she's so happy. Happy and proud, she grabs Casey's hand and they're howling at the moon and then Tobin is scanning the stands, trying to find her parents when she sees her. She's sitting on the bench, cardinal red Stanford jersey, grass stained socks, head in hands, shoulders shaking. And Tobin remembers that on the other side of a win that feels this good is a loss that hurts that bad. And then suddenly the forward looks up and Tobin always thought her favorite color was Tarheel blue but now all she can see is green. Tobin swears the roars of the stadium go quiet when those green eyes find hers. They're green like the soccer pitch, and they're grey like the clouds over New Jersey in the winter, and they're streaked with red from tears of effort, of feeling, of passion. Tobin is frozen on the spot. She wants to stay right here looking at her for forever. But then the forward leans down and picks up a duffel bag and goes towards the locker rooms and someone is emptying a water cooler onto Tobin's head and Tobin's body remembers how to move again. We won, she thinks, shrugging off the memory of the girl's sad grey green eyes. "WE WONNNNN!" She screams aloud, throwing her arms in the air and then tackling her nearest teammate to the grass. We won.

And then it's later and all the players over 21 decide to ditch the hotel ballroom celebrations in favor of the bars and Tobin finds herself on the dim dance floor with her teammates and randoms all around her and four shots in her system. She's feeling a lot. Tonight was her last college game. She wraps her arms around Casey's torso and buries her face in Casey's shoulder until she feels like she's gonna cry. Not tonight. I can't cry tonight. Tobin needs some space before she turns into a weepy mess about her teammates who have made the last four years the best of her life. She needs some air. She lets Casey know she's stepping out for some breathing room and slips out the side door and heads up the stairs to the bar's rooftop deck.

It's December and cold, so the deck is deserted. Tobin wraps her arms around herself and shivers, briefly wondering why she only thought to wear the ugly "NCAA Champions 2010" T-shirt and some ripped black jeans and flip flops. She leans with her arms against the railing and looks out at the city lights, feeling the breeze ripple through her hair and thin shirt. Four years and they ended it on top. She grins to herself. She doesn't exactly know what's next for her, but she doesn't need to figure it out tonight. After a few minutes she starts to get cold and she feels clear headed enough that she thinks she can rejoin her teammates without getting too emotional. She turns to go inside. She almost misses the green.

She's in the corner of the deck, curled up on a barstool in a black Stanford fleece and short athletic shorts with a few empty glasses in front of her. And she's looking right at Tobin. Tobin is rooted to the spot for the second time that night. The girl looks so broken. So lost. Her eyes are pleading with Tobin and Tobin has the urge to fix everything. She wants to hold her, she wants to kiss her, she wants...

You're drunk, Tobin reminds herself.

The girl sniffles and breaks eye contact and downs a shot that's sitting in front of her. Tobin wonders how many the girl has had. She wonders how the forward's Stanford teammates had let her go out to a bar by herself in this condition. Tobin knows she can't leave her. She takes a hesitant step towards the girl's huddled up figure and then another. 

"H-Hey.." she stutters out and then suddenly Tobin's back is pressed against the railing and the girl's arms are around her neck and she's crying into Tobin's shoulder and Tobin doesn't know what to do except wrap her arms tightly around the girl's ribcage and hold her. And then her hands start to lazily trace patterns onto her back through the fleece and everything is a bit foggy because the girl's hair is damp and smells like vanilla and Tobin doesn't feel drunk anymore, she feels high. She mumbles into her hair that everything is gonna be okay and Tobin thinks she could stand like this forever even though it's cold and her shirt is wet from the girls tears and the railing is digging into the middle of her back. She could stay like this forever. "I'm sorry," she murmurs into the girl's hair, reaching up and stroking it softly, "I'm sor-"

Abruptly the forward pushes herself away from Tobin, backing up a few steps and fixing Tobin with a fiery, wild stare.

"Don't you dare," the girl hisses out, "Don't you dare say you're sorry for winning. Don't you dare say you're sorry for being better. I just wasn't good enough. I just wasn't fucking good enough."

Tobin is frozen yet again, transfixed by the girl's anger and passion.

"I'm never fucking good enough. Christen Press isn't good enough. She outscores every other fucking player in the NCAA this year, but what does she have to show for it? No NCAA Championship! No National Team call-up!" She lets out a strangled high pitched laugh and takes a step closer to Tobin, jabbing a finger into Tobin's chest, "But you Tobin Heath have everything. You have an NCAA title don't you? You're a national team darling aren't you??" She gives Tobin's shoulder a little shove as the tears begin falling from her eyes again. "What do you have that I don't?? I work so fucking hard. I have given EVERYTHING to this sport, EVERYTHING! Do you know how hard I try? Do you know that every time we lose I cry and every time we win I cry because I never am fucking good enough. Everything I do is never enough. My best isn't enough. That phone has never once rung for me. They've never called." Christen's face is dangerously close to Tobin's now.

"So I try harder," Christen continues in a low voice, "I give soccer more of my time, I spend hours working on my touch, I spend hours watching footage of my old games, what can I do better? And I'm a fucking MACC Hermann Finalist. I'm probably going to be named the best soccer player in collegiate soccer and US Soccer won't ever call me because..." Christen takes one more step so her legs are slotted between Tobin's and her hands are gripping either side of Tobin's face, and she murmurs against Tobin's trembling lips, "I'm never fucking good enough."

And then she's kissing Tobin hard and her hands find their way under Tobin's shirt and Tobin can't remember ever being this turned on before. Christen is aggressive and angry and desperate and Tobin can't think clearly enough to stop her. She tastes like tequila and salty tears, but her skin smells like rain and her thick hair is damp and clean and Tobin can't get enough. And they're both shaking. Tobin can't stop shaking. She's exhausted from the game and cold and drunk and she knows this is wrong because Christen is crying. Because Christen hates herself. Christen might even hate Tobin. But Tobin can't bear to push her away. Christen feels like everything Tobin has been waiting for. She never wants to let her go. 

So she pulls Christen's hips into her and Christen starts to grind her hips into Tobin and Tobin moans into Christen's mouth and puts her right foot against the wall behind her to give herself more leverage to match Christen's aggression. Christen steps forward again, impossibly closer to Tobin, placing her legs on either side of Tobin's jean covered leg and digging her nails into Tobin's shoulder blades. She attaches her mouth to the side of Tobin's neck and slowly begins grinding onto Tobin's thigh. Christen Press is trying to get herself off on her leg. Fuck, Tobin thinks she might pass out.

Christen pauses and pulls her head back and looks Tobin dead in the eyes. She reaches for Tobin's hands which have fallen loosely at her sides and guides Tobin's hands to her hips "Help me," she demands, beginning to grind her center against Tobin's thigh again, maintaining eye contact with her. Tobin looks into those gray green eyes and grips Christen's hips firmly and slowly begins to help Christen move her center back and forth over Tobin's jean-clad thigh. Tobin plants her foot more firmly against the railing and pushes her thigh up harder into Christen. Christen grinds down harder and her fingers grip so tightly to Tobin's shoulders she thinks Christen might leave bruises. Christen's eyes are fighting to stay open and after another movement up and down Tobin's thigh she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against Tobin's, her breath beginning to come out in short gasps.

"Faster," she chokes out, moving her face to bury in Tobin's shoulder as Tobin's arms work to pull Christen closer to her climax. Tobin feels Christen's wetness soaking through her shorts and onto Tobin's jeans. Christen lets out a steady stream of whimpers as grinds onto Tobin's thigh faster and harder. Christen's fingers dig into Tobin's shoulders even more and she gasps out as she grind frantically, chasing her climax, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna-" She bites down hard on Tobin's shoulder as a shudder goes through her body and Tobin slows her movements to let Christen ride out her orgasm. Once Christen stops moving against Tobin altogether, Tobin moves her arms around Christen's back and rubs it in small circles as Christen falls limply against her.  
Christen leans into Tobin's lanky figure and Tobin squeezes the girl impossibly tighter to her chest. She wants to tell Christen that she is good enough. She's amazing, she's the best thing Tobin has ever seen, she wants to tell her that when she saw her earlier all the pieces of her life fell into place, that--

"Fuck," Christen says suddenly, pulling back a bit. 

"Fuck!" she says again with a bit more emphasis, squirming out of Tobin's arms and taking a few steps back from her, crossing her arms over her chest, looking cold and lonely and tragic and beautiful and Tobin wants nothing more than to pull her back in and hold her. But she has a feeling that that's not how this will work. Tobin's whole body goes cold all over. Christen fixes Tobin again with her bloodshot green eyes, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks again.

"Christen..." Tobin takes a step towards Christen.

"I have to go," says Christen abruptly, turning and stumbling towards the stairs down to the bar. Tobin follows her, but Christen is quick and she makes it inside the bar while Tobin is still on the stairs. Tobin pulls open the door and steps inside the bar, her eyes searching for something she knows will be gone. Tobin's teammates spot her and start to cheer and dance their way towards her. Tobin sees a flash of long tan legs and a dark curls slip out the entrance without a backward glance and she suddenly feels nauseous. 

The next time she sees her isn't for two more years.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy, just thought i'd write a non-AUish Preath backstory where they have this really emotional encounter before their time on the national team together. it's my first woso fic. this will probably stay just a one-shot because I'm working on an angsty college AU Moe and JJ fic right now because their is a serious gap in the JJ fanfic market! i know my sentences are crazy run-on, but any feedback is greatly appreciated! :)


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